Chapter 8

August 2, 1915

40 miles out from Warsaw

The roads had gotten a lot tougher than before, artillery rounds littering the ground as we did our best to stay in course. The smell of death had not reached our nose as we drove by numerous corpses, proving that the airtight seal was not just some made up shit to make us feel safe.

However the same couldn't be said for the tankers. The barrel on their tanks prevented them from truly getting a good seal. They could always close the barrel, but it'd be foolish in case we needed them to deliver heavy fire.

I guess that tanker from yesterday wouldn't be able to praise his vehicle like before. "Sir, the Russian line has been spotted," our driver said, pointing towards the various trucks with soldiers loaded on the back. "Honk the horn, see if any of them stop," I ordered, hearing our vehicle's horn blare shortly after.

The Russian trucks honked back, as we came to a stop. "Guns stay in the vehicle. Last thing we want to do is put these guys on edge even more," I quickly broadcasted over the radio, before stepping out of the vehicle.

One Russian soldier came towards us, likely either a commander, or translator. "I... Uh... Russian..." He pointed over towards one of the trucks. "My commander wishes to...." I stopped him, quickly speaking to him in Russian.

"I appreciate the effort, but wouldn't it be better to speak in your native tongue?" The soldier was surprised, quickly gaining a wide grin. "You're pretty good at speaking Russian. Are you perhaps from here?"

I shook my head. "No. Officers in our military are expected to learn a foreign language. It makes communication much easier, and reduces the chances of a misunderstanding. Bring me to your commander."

The soldier nodded, quickly leading me to his commander, who, unlike his soldiers, didn't have even a speck of mud, or dirt on him. "It is nice to meet you, Commander..." The Russian quickly responded. "Petrov. Commander Petrov. I assume you're the one leading those... Vehicles?"

I nodded. "I'm Colonel Talos. I'm in charge of the Auroan Army's twenty-second Mechanized Division." The Commander scoffed, taking me by surprise. "Your Country boasts of going to war, yet they only send a Colonel to handle the eastern front? I must say, I'm disappointed."

I couldn't help but smile. "I guess that's what sets us apart from the Russians. While you order your men to retreat without having done anything significant, I've ordered my men to charge forward and get the job done, not that it'll be difficult."

A sneer became present on Petrov's face. "Why you-"

"It's okay, Commander. Go on home and get an honorary medal for trying. I only came here to tell you that Auroa will do your job for you. Though, please keep in mind." I leaned in extra close towards the Russian. "Had any of my men heard you insult our country, we would have killed you and your men, and burned your bodies in a ditch."

I stopped leaning in, looking toward the Russian soldier. "Pleasant talk we had, I wish you and your comrades the best." I wasted no time returning to my truck, making sure to wipe the mud off my boots before getting in.

"What did you talk to him about?" The driver asked, to which I immediately replied. "We just exchanged greetings, and wished each other the best of luck. Nothing too crazy. Let's get going."

Two hours later.

Hours passed as we eventually arrived at the city of Warsaw. The sight was depressing to say the least. Quick, cheap fortifications had been made to the city, which consisted of rubble stacked on top of rubble, and barbed wire.

We could easily tell that shelling had been a common occurrence in the city. The citizens here looked tired, and skinny. "Sir, these people don't look so good at all," the driver commented, a frown present on every single one of our faces.

It was clear that humanitarian aid was needed. I could only hope that The King's father, and temporary head of government would grant us the aid that this city needed.

"Unload boys. I want you all to find the Headquarters that the Russians were using previously. We'll go from there."

With the sheer number of armored trucks, and tanks, it was practically a given that we'd be able to hold our positions against the Austro-Hungarian forces.

That was our objective after all.

If we could successfully hold back the enemy, we could use Warsaw as a depot. If we did that, we could supply our troops, and push back against the enemy while those on the western front pushed back against the Germans.

We had the supplies. We could definitely do such a thing. It would simply take time, and resources.

"Sir, Headquarters is calling." I turned to see the radio operator holding up the phone for me to grab.

"Colonel Eden Talos reporting for duty," I said into the microphone.

"Colonel, how goes your Mission?" An older, much more raspy voice asked, one which I recognized immediately. "A-Ah, Lord Vendencia. Our mission is going smoothly right now. We just entered Warsaw, and are currently looking for the Russian HQ in order to establish a temporary place of residence."

There was a moment of silence before Lord Vendencia responded. "Good. Do you require anything? We are in a position where we can provide you materials, and various other supplies, if you require them."

I didn't need to think about it. It was the perfect opportunity to finally request aid. "My Lord, your troops are well off, however, the people of Warsaw are starved, and tired. There's been shelling here recently, and their homes are damaged, alongside their minds. If I may be so bold to ask for some building materials for their homes, and for fortifications, and food for the people, that would be very much appreciated."

"It will be done," he quickly replied, before continuing. "Expect three different air drops outside of Warsaw at 18:00, 0100, and 0400 on the third, and fourth. Understood?"

"Yes, My Lord. Thank you for your understanding."

"If that's all you require, then be safe. I have to check with the Royal Marines, and my son as to how their battles go on the west."

"King Vendencia has already deployed?" I asked, genuinely surprised. A King, let alone a genius like him shouldn't be in the front lines, he should be coordinating from behind.

"Of course. You can't expect a king to sit back and send his men to their potential deaths. A good King, no, a good leader leads from the front, even in the face of death."

"I see. I never thought of it that way." It was a new perspective for me. In the military academy, we were just taught the stereotypical leadership traits, and such. Like how the primary objective of leadership was troop welfare, and the secondary being troop welfare.

"I wish you well, Lord Vendencia. I must get back to work."

"Likewise, Colonel. Do keep yourself and your men healthy, and as safe as possible."

With the call ended, I was allowed to finally get to work.